Job Speaks After Long Silence

I am dust. I want nothing but water.
I long ago buried the three daughters
and seven sons who cursed my silence.
Why speak? How hear the sputtering incense
of their voices? The Unnameable roared
his deafening Quiet, and I adored
Him. Adore. Will adore Him till He
unmakes me. What choice? Seen, I could not speak,
so I crawled, terror and joy burned to ash.

Afterward, I rose, mouth sealed. Heard the plash
of a frog. Touched a daughter's oiled hair.
Smelled the lambs bled dry on the altar.
Saw all I'd lost doubled. Tasted the dust
it all was. A hundred forty years of thirst
for the water of unknowing, for pain
and ease, for things not to melt in His rain.
When the Wind at last blows me apart,
I want a wet, mortal word in my throat.

Copyright © 2005 John Repp All rights reserved
from Gratitude
Cherry Grove Collections
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission